


Like Romeo and Juliet (but with more coffee)

by quinn_rossi



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Rivalry, Romeo and Juliet References, Smut, but they actually love each other ok thanks, yep I wrote a coffee shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 11:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14212596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinn_rossi/pseuds/quinn_rossi
Summary: It’s one thing to fall in love with someone. It’s another thing to fall in love with your rival. It’s a whole ‘nother thing to fall in love with a stupid redhead with a cute smile and plaid shirt who works in your rival coffee shop across the street who has been flirting with you for months now.---In which Mickey and Ian work at competing coffee shops across the street from each other. Mickey only ever visits, purely to check out the competition,notbecause he's got a crush on that smug redhead.





	Like Romeo and Juliet (but with more coffee)

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, I wrote a coffee shop AU.

Mickey Milkovich works in a coffee shop. He's not as embarrassed as he thought he should be by that fact. They sell normal coffee (not the shitty hipster coffee), breakfast foods, cakes and sandwiches. So that's why Mickey Milkovich doesn't see working in a coffee shop a bad thing because it’s more of a café.

Now the coffee shop across the road, that's a place Mickey would rather put a bullet in his head before working there.

It's the fucking definition of hipster. They claim to be an ‘art café’, with oversized easels and paint splashes decorating the front of the shop. Their menu is displayed on a chalkboard in the window, written in fancy, colourful, cursive writing. Even their fucking menu is hipster: Drinks and desserts that _no one_ has ever heard of, Mickey thinks.

What the fuck is a triple chocolate chip cream frappuccino with two shots of maple and a swirl (yes, a fucking ‘swirl’) of white chocolate!

Despite all the bitter, black coffee Mickey drinks as he works, he knows he has a sweet tooth. He’d occasionally pick a piece of a cake over a sandwich for his lunch (but only occasionally because he is aware that he’s pretty hot, and he wants to stay that way).

It's purely business related, Mickey claims when he finds himself wandering down to that hipster café one weekend. It’s purley curiosity, he just has to know what a triple chocolate fucking whatever it is is.

Mickey smirks when he sees the place is pretty empty, but he knows that _his_ coffee shop is probably just as empty considering that it’s ten am, too late for the morning rush, too early for the lunch one.

The hipster-fuck behind the counter has an annoying fucking grin that makes Mickey want to punch off his fucking face. He’s wearing such a _gay_ plaid shirt under his brown, cotton apron, and he’s got the sleeves rolled up showing off his toned, freckled arms. And his unmissable red hair reminds Mickey that he _knows_ this hipster fuckwit.

“Mickey,” the ginger smirks at him. “Come to check out the competition?”

Mickey hates how the guy knows his name. He’s been over to his coffee shop a few times and caught the shiny little badge with Mickey’s name on and of course he felt the need to stress his name at the start or at the end of every one of his godforsaken sentences.

“Fuck you is what I’ve come to check out, Red” Mickey sneers, although Red’s smile doesn’t falter, instead that fucker leans forward a little to not-so-subtly check Mickey out.

“I know what I’m checking out, Mickey,” Ian grins and Mickey chooses to ignore that. “They run out of boring, black filter coffee over there?”

“Come for something different,” he says. “Purely to check out what the fuss is about, doubt it’ll taste any good.”

“Everything I make tastes amazing, trust me,” Red winks at him. He fucking winks at him! Yet again, Mickey ignores the damn comment. “What can I get you, Mickey?”

Mickey doesn’t want to say it. It makes him want to gag because he knows he’ll just sound ridiculous saying triple chocolate fucking whatever!

Ian waits a moment before asking Mickey again. “What’re you after, Mickey?”

“Ugh, it’s all hipster shit. One of those, uh, fuckin’ triple chocolate whatevers,” Mickey mumbles.

“Triple chocolate whatever? Not on the menu, Mick, try again,” Ian taps a menu for emphasis and has a stupid grin on his face that makes Mickey fucking squirm.

Mickey groans. Fucking redhead. “Gimme a triple chocolate chip cream frappuccino with two shots of maple and a swirl of white chocolate.”

“Now that! That we do have on the menu,” Ian smiles and takes the five dollars (too fucking much if you were to ask Mickey).

Mickey tries not to stare when he makes his drink. He’s definitely not staring at his long, slender fingers as they fiddle with the buttons and notches on various machines. So to distract himself from the fingers and his beautiful arms, Mickey finds his eyes landing on that freckled face, he’s still fucking smirking to himself.

Mickey manages to maintain his scowl as the redhead looks up at him and catches his eye. He knows it’s petty and that he’s only being mean to him because this is their coffee shop’s ‘competition’ and yeah, maybe the guy is hot, so so fucking hot that it’s actually frustrating Mickey. The guy’s winks and smirks don’t help with that and it pisses Mickey off.

Mickey practically snatches his triple chocolate chip cream… you get it, out of his hands and turns abruptly to leave.

“Not going to stay and give me your verdict on this “hipster shit”, Mickey?” Ian calls after him.

“Wouldn’t want to give you the pleasure,” Mickey declares, his scowl now a smirk as he backs out of the shop.

Mickey sips his drink on the way home. Fuck. It’s really fucking good. But he wasn’t going to give the perky ginger the pleasure of knowing that. He groans when he realises this now means he’s going to have to visit that hipster place more often if he ever wants to drink this amazingly sweet and chocolatey drink again.

He convinces himself that it’s fine to go buy a coffee from there once in awhile, just to see how the competing business across the street is doing. Not because he actually likes the drink. And most definitely _not_ because he likes the redhead that makes them.

It goes on for weeks. Mickey goes there on Tuesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. Ian visits Mickey’s shop on the other days during his break. They have a weird dynamic between them where Ian so obviously flirts with him, and Mickey tells him to go fuck himself.

Every time Mickey orders his triple chocolate chip cream frappuccino with two shots of maple and a swirl of white chocolate to go, Red always insists on writing Mickey’s name on the cup, even though Mickey calls him stupid for doing so because he knows that it’s his order.

On one Friday, the redhead even adds his number to the cup.

Mickey knows he’s ruined from that moment.

He doesn’t call the number but despite himself, he keeps the damn cup by his bed in hopes that he’ll get drunk, call the number, and be able to justify calling the redhead on the fact that he was drunk.

It’s like Red _knows_ Mickey’s kept his number, even if he didn’t call it. Because the next few times Mickey comes to the shop, he continues to flirt whereas most people would give up if giving the person your number didn’t work.

It’s also like Red _knows_ that Mickey hasn’t got laid ever since his first visit to that shop, and it’s all his fault. He can probably sense the tension and frustration that even masterbating to the image of that redhead and his sly smirk won’t get rid off.

Fuck him. Mickey _loathes_ , absolutely loathes, the damn redhead.

A few days later, Mickey’s stood behind the counter enjoying a bacon sandwich when the little bell rings as the door swings open.

“You’re empty too?” Red asks and gestures to the empty coffee shop.

“It’s ten fuckin’ degrees outside, no one in the right fuckin’ mind has left their beds. Besides, I’m here which means _my_ coffee shop, is less empty than _your_ one.”

“It’s _your_ coffee shop, is it, Mickey?” Red laughs as he just invites himself to come stand behind the counter with Mickey.

The fucker is still wearing his apron, complete with a wooden name tag with his name burnt into it. _Ian_.

“What you doing behind _my_ counter, _Ian_?” Mickey asks, adding his name at the end and stressing the two syllables just like Red himself does.

“Checking out the competition,” he grins and gives him the once over, making Mickey feel all too hot under the collar.

Ian takes another step towards him and then glances at the till and mutters about how the till in his shop is much nicer. Mickey forgets how to breathe for a moment when Ian takes another step closer.

The little tinkle of the bell and the door opening interrupts the tension and Mickey’s never been so glad for a customer to appear. Except this person isn’t quite a customer but rather, his sister.

“Mandy?” Mickey squints at her, she’s only ever visited the coffee shop once.

“Yep,” she smiles and walks over to the counter. “Place across the road is closed so I’ve been forced to come her for my caffeine fix.”

“Sorry about that,” Ian chuckles. “Didn’t think anyone would turn up.”

“Wait, wait!” Mickey points an accusing finger at Mandy. “You go to the fuckin’ place across the road? My competition? What happened to family pride, Mands?”

“They do the kind of coffees I like!” Mandy defends herself. “But I guess I’ll just have to deal with one of your cappuccinos.”

“You still gotta pay,” Mickey groans as he starts the machine. “Boss will kill me if he finds out I been giving free coffee out.”

“Boss?” Ian knows he’s just caught Mickey out. “Thought this was _your_ coffee shop?”

“ _It is_. Sort of. The owner’s like ninety, just playing the waiting game with him.”

Mandy accepts her drink and stays for a while. She chats away to Ian like their best buds, which it pisses Mickey off to learn they kind of are. Mickey makes a snide comment about how she betrays him by going to Ian’s art café every day.

Mickey stops making comments when his mind suddenly focuses on Ian. He’s so animated when he talks. He makes gestures with his hands and arms as he describes what he’s talking about. The way he laughs is nothing short of beautiful.

It’s one thing to fall in love with someone. It’s another thing to fall in love with your rival. It’s a whole ‘nother thing to fall in love with a stupid redhead with a cute smile and plaid shirt who works in your rival coffee shop across the street who has been flirting with you for months now.

Mandy leaves eventually, and Mickey and Ian are alone again.

Ian looks at Mickey and it’s then when Mickey realises that he’s been staring. But he doesn’t break the eye contact.

He knows he’s fucking doomed, but he’s already accepted that.

Mickey grins. A big ol’ Mickey grin that he’s certain Ian has never seen before. His suspicions are correct, judging by the shock on Ian’s face.

“Fuck you, get outta my shop, you’re my rival,” Mickey actually laughs.

“Didn’t know people actually had rivals,” Ian laughs with him.

“Well, I do. And let me tell you, _Ian_ , my coffee shop is and always will be the better one. And that’s just the sandwiches, don’t get me started on the coffee.”

Ian raises his brow and takes the half-eaten bacon sandwich from Mickey’s hand. He bites slowly where Mickey had just bitten, licks his lips sinfully, all whilst looking Mickey straight in the eye.

Ian shrugs. “Guess you’ve never tasted the avocado toast sandwiches I make, Mickey.”

Mickey glares at Ian, but he still smiles. “I’ll be sure to order that next.”

Ian hands the sandwich back. He winks, turns around, and leaves, swaying his goddamn hips as he does so.

Mickey sticks to what he said, and less than a week later, he walks in and orders the “avocado shit you were talking about”.

Ian’s more chipper and flirtatious than usual, and Mickey correctly figures out that it was the fact that Mickey does more than scowl and tell him to ‘go fuck himself’, now he smiles, and now he’ll sometimes try the ‘flirting’ himself.

“Good luck tryna write your fuckin’ number on that,” Mickey chuckles, because now Ian writes his number on every drink that Mickey orders, even though he never calls or texts.

“Oh, Mickey, you’re so naive,” Ian tuts as he pulls out a washable marker and writes his number on the plate, earning him an eye roll from Mickey.

Mickey gives him a sarcastic smile as he picks up the sandwich and bites it, ready to tell him how shit is compared to the sandwiches that he makes a hundred times better. He’s pissed off because it tastes so good.

“So… how is it?” Ian already knows the answer. He knows that the sandwich is good, because Mickey straight up makes a moan that sounds like pure sex when he goes for a third bite.

“Fuck off, it’s terrible, really,” Mickey scoffs but nonetheless he takes another bite.

When Mickey finishes his sandwich he tries to hand Ian the plate back but he shakes his head.

“Keep it,” Ian insists.

“I’m not takin’ a fuckin’ plate,” Mickey places it on the counter and backs away from it.

“A peace offering!” Ian calls as Mickey slowly backs out of the shop with a grin plastered on his face. “End this feud!” he cries dramatically. “Let’s fight no more, Mickey! Two households, both alike in dignity! End this now!”

“You quoting fuckin’ Romeo and Juliet,” Mickey remembers analysing the fuck out of that text in high school. “Sorry, Romeo, but this ain’t over!”

“Goodbye, my Juliet!” Ian laughs as Mickey opens the door and leaves.

Mickey officially snaps one Saturday night.

He’s horny as all fuck but he doesn’t want to jerk it off because it always makes him more frustrated after and he swears that Ian can tell when he’s done it. He holds that coffee cup in his hand, staring at the number.

Fuck it.

After two rings, Ian picks up.

“Hello?” Ian answers.

Mickey doesn’t quite know what to say but decides not to reveal himself just yet, because Mickey Milkovich liked to be all _mysterious_ like that. “Ay, you do fuckin’ home delivery?”

He hears Ian laugh a small bit because only Mickey says ‘ay’ and curses like that.

“Depends. What do you want to order?” Ian asks.

“I wanna fuckin’ triple chocolate chip cream frappuccino with two shots of maple and a swirl of white chocolate. _Please, Ian_ ,” he basically moans the last bit.

Ian gulps and manages to say, “text the address,” before hanging up.

Mickey texts his address and chucks his phone on the bedside table to rush to get ready. He’s already washed the gel out of his hair, but wets his fingers and hands and strokes it back to at least somewhat style it. He sprays a bit of cologne too. He looks down at his attire. Literally just sweatpants. He considers changing but it’s not like he’s inviting Ian over for a candlelit dinner on some shit.

Nineteen long minutes later - Mickey was _not_ counting - there’s a knock on the door.

Mickey jumps from the sofa and eagerly opens the door. He smirks at the way Ian’s eyes go wide at the sight of shirtless Mickey, and the way he almost drops the coffee in the process.

“You didn’t actually have to make the fuckin’ coffee,” Mickey laughs and slowly takes the cup from his hand as he ushers him.

Ian closes the door behind himself and shakes his head at Mickey. “We can’t do this.”

Mickey’s smile disappears and he looks quizzically at Ian. “What? Why?”

“Capulet, Montague, it just can’t be!” Ian dramatically says.

Mickey rolls his eyes but thanks his younger self for remembering the pointless quotes. “Deny thy father, refuse thy name.”

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” Ian replies with his own knowledge of Romeo and Juliet.

Mickey’s run out of Romeo and Juliet quotes now and sighs. “You gonna keep quoting Romeo and Juliet, or we gonna fuck?” Mickey turns and saunters off to the bedroom, Ian following behind.

Mickey suddenly feels nervous once they reach his bedroom. He hated to admit that he’d been dreaming about touching, kissing, and fucking him. Now it wasn’t a dream.Ian senses that Mickey’s usual cockiness has gone and gently holds Mickey’s cheek and makes him look up.

“You sure you’re ready to resolve months of sexual tension?” Ian smirks.

“Yeah,” Mickey nods eagerly. “Kiss me.”

Ian does just that. Leaning down slightly to the shorter man, as he lifts the heels of his feet up to lean up. Their lips fitting together so perfectly and so tenderly. It’s a slow kiss, mainly soft lips and just a touch of tongue, but they pull away breathless.

“You kiss by the book,” Ian breathlessly laughs another Romeo and Juliet quote.

“Stop fuckin’ quoting that damn book,” Mickey mutters as he kisses Ian again, harder and more passionately than before.

Ian successfully takes control of the kiss after a few moments and holds Mickey against the wall with his arms either side of him and their bodies pressed together. Ian’s hands let go of pinning Mickey’s arms and instead one goes to hold his head and another to feel Mickey’s bare chest.

Mickey takes the opportunity of his free arms to unbuckle Ian’s belt and shove his hand into Ian’s boxers. Ian gasps a little, and Mickey does too, because _fucking hell_ , Mickey doesn’t even need to be looking at it to know he’s fucking huge.

Mickey stokes him a couple of times but lets go so Ian can pull away for a moment to frantically strip himself whilst Mickey yanks his own sweatpants off.

Mickey gets onto the bed, and Ian climbs on top of him as he lays down. He kisses him some more, biting his lip and letting his hands roam Mickey’s wonderful body. They grind their bodies together, moaning at the friction when their hard cocks rub each other.

When they stop kissing again to catch their breath, Mickey points at the lube on his bedside table and Ian smirks at him as he reaches out for it.

Ian gets in a good position so that his wrist won’t strain or ache, but he’s still able to see Mickey when he makes him come undone.

“Now,” Ian says as he rubs lube onto his fingers. “Shall we start with one?” He pushes one finger in and Mickey gasps at the sensation of his goddamn beautiful fingers with cold lube pushing deep inside of him. “Or two?” Ian pulls the first finger out and when he pushes back in, he pushes two in.

“Fuck,” Mickey moans and pushes down on Ian’s fingers as he pulls them out. “Three! Fuckin’ three!”

Ian chuckles at the needy state he’s in, but still complies and slowly pushes in three slicked up fingers into Mickey’s tight hole. He thrusts his fingers in and out, spreading them a little to work every little moan out of the man.

“Fuck!” Micky all but shouts and that’s Ian’s signal that he’s brushed his sweet spot. “Get in me. Get in me.”

“One condition,” Ian teases as he pulls his fingers out and starts to slick up his cock.

“Fuckin’ hell, Ian, what?”

“You admit that my coffee shop is better than yours,” Ian wraps his hand, the one with the slick and wet fingers, around Mickey’s dick and so slowly strokes him.

Mickey’s a sighing and moaning mess, he’d probably tell Ian anything he wanted to hear in this moment. “Fine! You’re coffee shop is better, you fuckin’ happy?”

“Yep,” Ian smiles and leans down. He kisses his nose lightly and smiles at Mickey’s poor attempt at looking pissed off.

“ _Ian, yes_ ,” Mickey moans as Ian finally slides his cock in him.

He only pushes halfway in before he just as slowly pulls out and then thrusts a little more than half in. He does this a couple of times until he’s thrusting his whole length in and out of him.

“Mick, fuck,” Ian groans above him. “You’re so - fucking - so fucking tight,” Ian groans the words out because it doesn’t matter how fucking cliche they are, Mickey really is so tight and hot and perfect around his dick.

Ian thrusts not too slowly, but not too fast either, because he’s still not sure how Mickey wants him to go.

“Harder,” Mickey groans, answering Ian’s silent question.

Ian does just that. His hands go from rubbing his chest and teasing his nipples to gripping his hips as he picks up his pace. He slams in and out, revelling in the grunts, gasps, and moans he works out of Mickey’s plump, pink, perfect lips.

“Ian, fuck, Ian,” Mickey exclaims as Ian moves a hand to stroke him again. Ian moans at the way Mickey bites his lip to try - but fails - to quieten his noises.

He decides he wants to kiss those again. As he leans down, the angle improves greatles. Mickey cries out his name and comes between them and Ian follows as he presses their lips together in another passionate kiss.

There’s a beat before Ian pulls out and rolls off Mickey to lie beside him and catch his breath. Ian grabs the wipes from the side of the bed and quickly cleans them both up before collapsing back onto the bed again.

Mickey’s still shaking a little and Ian kisses his shoulder before wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close. Mickey leans his head and kisses the hand Ian draped over his shoulder. 

“Wow,” Ian breaks the silence.

“Yep,” Mickey agrees with him. He lets out a happy and content sigh and tilts his head up to kiss Ian again. Ian smirks suspiciously and Mickey gives him a look because he can just tell what he’s about to do. “If you quote fuckin’ Romeo and Juliet, I will stab you,” he threatens but laughs as well.

“Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night,” Ian sees past his threat and grins.

“Fuck you, Romeo,” Mickey says and kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it! I'm pretty new to writing shorter stories, you have no idea how much it pains me not to turn this into a 100k fic, hahah, now I've gotta go back and write for my longer fic, peace!
> 
> Ahh! Once again, I hoped you enjoyed it!


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